Mirror of the Self
Ice cold steel folds
makin' traces wakin' up,
the eyes disguised holds
truth and lies of omissions surprised and rough...
fear steals hearts wielding wind starts mired deep,
the steep lion's-den-slope no problem copes
the waylaid curls of minds hurl sheep,
not real bleating mammals with fleeting hopes.
Time will tell true and quell smooth,
losing rhyme behind timeless rhythms and lore
as we explore fine-lined and hopeful soothes
to listen, feel, dream, and to say and do no more.